


safe. safe. safe.

by DrPantalons



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, grantaire could be dead or he could be passed out, take your pick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-01-17 05:15:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1375117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrPantalons/pseuds/DrPantalons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is the DJ for the university's radio, and everyone knows that the announcers must be first to go when one plans to shoot up a school.</p><p>Or, the time Grantaire discovers there's no sound he'd rather die to than Enjolras' voice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was likely that Grantaire had been near death multiple times in his life— when he was younger and beaten to the point of unconsciousness, only to wake up later to a missing father and a sobbing mother. But he had never felt a pain quite like having two  _literal_  holes in his chest.

He had known to play dead after the shots tore through him, though it wasn’t hard to do. His chest ached so much that stopping his wheezy breaths was easy enough, and his panicked eyes stared hopelessly at one of the blinking lights of the booth, thankfully facing away from the door where his attacker was standing. The shooter was gone in only seconds, clearly not too interested in him now that he was out of the way. And as the heavy door slid shut behind him, Grantaire let his lungs start frantically trying to take in air again. 

It hurt. It hurt so,  _so_  much, and he felt so dizzy, and he felt blood bubbling up his throat. The next harsh breath he took had the red liquid accompanying it, dripping down his chin and landing messily on the control board under his head. Weakly, his hands scrambled for purchase against the desk until he had them firmly clamped around the edge, and he pushed. 

His chest screamed in protest at the movement, but he couldn’t just stay here. He needed to get to the floor. He needed to get under the desk. He needed his phone. 

He needed to call Enjolras. Enjolras always listened to his broadcast, he knew that. Which meant that the man had undoubtedly heard Grantaire being shot on air, which meant that he would be panicking, which meant that he’d have a panic attack. And Grantaire needed to make sure that he would stop.

And that meant that he was letting himself tumble off his chair in an ungraceful heap, a low groan sounding as his body hit the ground. Propped up messily on his elbow, he reached as far as he could under the desk, feeling somewhat like he was about to pass out from the pain. But he couldn’t let that happen. Enjolras had to be okay. Grantaire had to know that Enjolras would be okay before he could close his eyes and rest for a while.

His fingers finally wrapped around his phone, and he dragged it back towards him. For a moment he stayed propped there, trying to unlock his phone with shaking red fingers before his arms lost their strength and he fell forwards onto his chest.

His mouth opened in a silent yell, the drop to the ground sending shooting pain through his chest. His vision blurred, more than it had already been from the tears, and black dotted the edges. 

_No, you can’t go yet, you have to call Enjolras._

_Keep Enjolras safe. Keep Enjolras safe._

_Safe. Safe. Safe._

_Enjolras. Enjolras. Enjolras._

With only just barely renewed strength, Grantaire rolled onto his back, phone clenched tightly in his hand. His arms shook as he lifted it above his head and unlocked it, and his finger was almost shaking too much to hit Enjolras’ name properly on the speed-dial. But he did it.

He nearly started sobbing in relief as he saw that the call was going through, and he quickly let his arms drop so that he could press the phone weakly to his ear. It only had to ring twice before it stopped, and a moment later a new sound replaced it. The most beautiful sound Grantaire had ever heard.

"Grantaire?"

Enjolras was okay. Grantaire could hear Combeferre in the background even, which meant that someone was there for his sunshine. Enjolras was safe. Grantaire could close his eyes now. Enjolras was safe. Enjolras was— Enjolras was crying, but that was okay, because Enjolras was safe.  _Safe. Safe._

_Enjolras. Enjolras. Enjolras._

_Enjolras._


	2. Chapter 2

There were two loud bangs, and then silence had his ears ringing as if someone had used his head as a drumstick. His breath was stuck in his throat, and vaguely he could hear a rush of voices around him, though no sound came from his own mouth.

He should be the one panicking out loud, screaming and screeching and wailing and every other way of saying “make loud noise to show that no no no no this is not okay”. But Enjolras wasn’t sure that he was even real anymore. It felt like his heartstrings had been so thoroughly intertwined with Grantaire’s, nights of chests pressed close together under unnecessary blankets and beautiful, beautiful, _so fucking beautiful_ lack of shirts pulling them so close together that one could not exist without the other.

And his other was gone, leaving nothing but radio silence and blood turned to ice, sinking deep in his chest and tightening every muscle it touched until Enjolras was the marble statue that Grantaire used to breathe against his lips that he was. He had always hated that. Now he would give all four limbs and his soul to feel his breath again, so long as they left his lips and his heart. Their hearts would pump in unison, warming their bodies and making pale skin feel like a home the golden could crawl into.

Muffled sounds continued to pound against his head, and Enjolras wasn’t sure he had blinked yet. But his phone was vibrating, screen lighting up and feeling like a blinding honing signal and yes, yes, that was Grantaire, Grantaire was okay—

His hands couldn’t move fast enough to pull that phone to his ear, but in seconds there it was, the ringing stop with a swipe of his practiced thumb and that gorgeous name fell from his lips. Grantaire. Grantaire. Grantaire. Grantaire, are you okay? Grantaire. Grantaire. Grantaite. Grantaire, can you hear me? Are you there? Please speak to me. Grantaire. Grantaire. Grantaire.

He didn’t know he was screaming until his throat was raw and hands cupped his face, but they weren’t rough and stained with charcoal, they weren’t right, no, they weren’t his Grantaire’s, where was Grantaire, Grantaire, _can you hear me?_

He couldn’t. There was nothing but that damn radio silence, a crack in Combeferre’s voice, and the burning of Paris as Enjolras fell to crumbling bits and pieces, his world down to nothing but a beating heart that had none to beat in unison with. Just a thump, thump,

 _Thump_ as his body hits the ground, and his world is dark.


End file.
